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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26248309">Longing to Linger Till Dawn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomarryHereWeWhoaAgain/pseuds/TomarryHereWeWhoaAgain'>TomarryHereWeWhoaAgain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Enemies to ?, Horcruxes, M/M, Mind Games, let's go on a wild and uncomfortable ride together, surreality</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:40:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,944</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26248309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomarryHereWeWhoaAgain/pseuds/TomarryHereWeWhoaAgain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A happy and healthy family. Friends who worry and care.</p><p>A war approaching the shoreline, and night skies that shift the tides in their favour.</p><p>If sweet dreams are made of this, who is Harry to disagree?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Tomarry Reverse Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Night-ie Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I want to start all of this off with a huge thank you to The Crew. You are all my lifeblood and mean the world to me. And super-extra thanks to Amanda for checking over all my writing/giving me this prompt/basically carrying me to this point, and for just putting up with me really.</p><p>This is my first TomarryBigBang! At this rate, it will be my last ahahahah! But no really, I had so so much fun working on this, and it's 100% thanks to Crew. </p><p>My partner is <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakuragane_San">Sakuragane_San!!</a> AND IT WAS SUCH A TRIP WORKING TOGETHER, RIGHT?? AHAHAHAHAH I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE ALIVE. So please please please go check out the art they've worked so hard on when it's posted!!</p><p>CHAPTER 2 WILL BE UP SOON PLEASE PRAY FOR ME</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Faster. </em>
</p>
<p>He's bleeding; his skin is cut from branches whipping past, and his shoes slip on wet decaying leaves. His hands are scraped possibly to the bone, but he can't afford to slow, to take a proper moment to think to breathe to do anything— <em>nothing else. </em>The only essential thought or action right now, in this instant, is escape. </p>
<p>There's a snitch in his chest. Its wings beat against his ribcage, each <em>thump thump thump </em>propels him more, pushes him farther, but not far <em>enough</em>. It weighs and weighs and weighs until his breathing is laboured and each gasp is more a cough— more a cry for help than air entering and leaving his body. And yet the snitch in his chest does not weigh nearly as much as the snitch in his pocket. </p>
<p><em> Faster</em>.</p>
<p>He wants to believe he can do this. Hard eyes and determined encouraging words flash through his mind. He wants to believe <em>they can do this. </em>He's not alone now, hasn't been in years. Never will be again after what they've been through-- after they make it through this. The end has never been so close, so attainable. He would do <em>anything </em>-</p>
<p>Spellfire, bright and green and <em>sickly </em>, barely misses his cheek.</p>
<p>There's yelling now from a ways behind him. The hollers of a hunt enjoyed, the whooping from familiar and new voices. Stern shouts rear over the others, restraining them, honing their focus.</p>
<p>"<em>ALIVE YOU IDIOTS. HE'S TO BE TAKEN BACK ALIVE. </em>"</p>
<p>Harry needs to be faster.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Faster. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Faster. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Faster. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry's eyes pry open.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The world around him is hazy and muted, blurry greys and harsh whites, a ringing in his ears and the rush of falling. <em>Where is he? What is this place? Where's </em>-- There's sweat gathered on his brow and the lingering taste of an unpleasant dream on the tip of his tongue, but as he chases its notes, the flavour fades as though it was never there at all.</p>
<p>A violent burst of red eclipses the grey, it's so sudden and out of place that it pushes a word out of Harry's mouth before he can take a moment to process, to think.</p>
<p>"<em>Mum?" </em></p>
<p>"Harry! Thank goodness you're awake." Bright red hair and green eyes so like his own come into focus. His mother hovers over him, half bent and gripping his arm. Her hold is a little too tight, but he can't fault Lily for her concern.</p>
<p>He worries about her too.</p>
<p>Harry jolts forward, his head pounds with the sudden movement, he feels the pain in his eyes and the rush of blood like a beater's bat to the chest. He groans and grips his head between his legs; tears well in Harry's eyes, but he quickly rubs them away. There's a bone-deep ache, violent spasms in his calves and the too-taut feel of his freshly-healed skin.</p>
<p><em> There's something distinctly </em>wrong<em>, a disconnect in his breathing. Like he should be hyperventilating but isn't, like he should be </em>runningfrom something <em>but nothing is chasing him</em>-- His mother's relieved laugh is a soothing balm for all of that though.</p>
<p>"How are you feeling?" she whispers, mindful of his pain because-- <em>of course she is. </em>"Do you need anything? Pain relief potion? Maybe some water?"</p>
<p>Harry takes a minute to breathe through the initial discomfort, the shock.</p>
<p>He feels relatively alright,<em> if a bit lost-- </em>alright, if a bit tense. There's a residual tightness to his skin, a dry feeling Harry's far too familiar with from <em>yearly</em>-- from days of mischief and defence classes, from long summer afternoons duelling with his father. He's been healed recently, and the warmth he feels lingering under the tightness is the same that radiates from Lily, from her stable, comfortable presence.</p>
<p>But his arm twitches.</p>
<p>It's subtle, a minor thing, but Harry immediately feels remorse. Lily's grip is ironclad on his arm when she feels the twitch, <em>the impulse to esc</em>-- the need to have a little space. Her hold is suddenly barely there.</p>
<p>A gentle weight, a wavering itch to flee.</p>
<p>Hesitant, distant, both things he's worked so hard to dissipate.</p>
<p>The corners of her lips curl down just barely. "I'm sorry. You must still feel the after-effects of that spell. Let me grab you-" She makes to get up.</p>
<p>"No!" Harry cuts her off and seizes the cuff of her sleeve; he's okay after all. Nothing for her to worry about or apologise for. He never wants her to apologise for <em>anything</em>. "No, I'm alright."</p>
<p>Lily's shoulders slack in relief, but doubt clenches her jaw and purses her lips. Her hand moves to rub slow circles on his back.</p>
<p>"Do you remember what happened?" she says, tenderly changing topics. "Your father is actually the one who apparated you here; I only got back an hour or so ago-- We're sort of tag-teaming your watch."</p>
<p>Harry's mind combs for his last recollections, and as out of reach as they are, <em>as hazy around the edges, as distorted and wro</em>-- They build back together until he's blind once more by a different violent red. </p>
<p>It's not nearly as vibrant and fiery as his mother's hair, or playful memories of red and gold satin banners. No, this red is dark and <em>oozes</em>. It seeps out from under rubble and through fabric. It congeals, and it <em>haunts.</em> He remembers Death Eater regalia and harsh spellfire and-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And another red altogether. </p>
<p>Piercing. Focused.</p>
<p>Burning and Curious.</p>
<p>Trained solely on Harry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, Merlin." Harry is breathless and stares helplessly at his mother. His mouth hangs open in baffled, numb horror. </p>
<p>Lily holds his gaze for a moment. She searches for something and sighs. Harry's not sure she's found it. He's not sure if that's a good thing. </p>
<p>"Harr-bear." The nickname, the <em>term of endearment</em>, falls from her lips as naturally as breathing. "You don't have to explain anything to anyone now. Or ever, if you really don't want to."</p>
<p>Harry wants to believe her. He does, but. </p>
<p>But the tension in her voice and the desperate pleading look in her eyes makes his mother a terrible liar. </p>
<p>She continues, "But a lot of people want to know what happened. What went on in<em> there</em> before you knocked Him and yourself out. They want to know how you, a student barely out of Hogwarts, secured our first victory in <em>months. </em>A lot of people, Harry."</p>
<p>Lily looks like she's sorry once more, like she hardly believes the words coming out of her mouth.</p>
<p>Again, Harry can't blame her. </p>
<p>He can't believe them either.</p>
<p>"You're old enough now. You can make tough decisions. Your father and I have been talking, and we think it's time you consider joining The Order officially. We've kept you safe for as long as we could, but Harry-" She grips his hand tight. "He's seen you now. He's <em>fought </em>you now. We can't keep you hidden anymore."</p>
<p>Harry is pensive, his mouth a thin line as he tightens his hold of his mother's hand. "I'll think about it carefully, I promise."</p>
<p>Lily exhales from her nose, and it is loud and heavy like she was holding her breath. "I sincerely hope you think on it a little more than however much thought you gave before deciding to jump into that battle."</p>
<p>Harry's cheeks heat. "I- Well, it 's-! I-!" His free hand gestures at Lily; they flap and grasp and try to pull an excuse from thin air. His mother looks seconds away from taking pity; the desperation clears from her eyes, and that fond knowing affection returns. A dimple on her cheek hollows out as she fights the urge to laugh.</p>
<p>A few loud bangs echo from the hall outside Harry's room, and it sends both of them on high alert until suddenly James kicks the door open, literally. </p>
<p>James looks surprised, not nearly as surprised as Lily and Harry, but it's close. "Harry, you're awake?"</p>
<p>Harry doesn't see his mother sigh, but he hears her.</p>
<p>His father pauses and grins so wide that Harry's sure it must hurt, "Yesterday was outstanding! How did you manage that!? Sirius and I haven't been able to shut up about it! It was-OUCH!" James yelps and jumps on one foot, he vigorously shakes his leg to ease the burn from Lily's stinging hex.</p>
<p>His mother's hexes don't play around.</p>
<p>His father springs up, resilient, with a chastised smiling tilt to his lips, and it strikes Harry then. The thought that they are so-<em>so different</em>. </p>
<p>Their personalities, that is, because James couldn't <em>look</em> more like Harry, or - Harry supposes - <em>He</em> couldn't look more like <em>James</em>. </p>
<p>The curly hair and glasses, sure. But it was more than that. More than anyone ever bothers to notice past the cursory apparent traits. It's in James' jawline and his shoulders, in the way his smile curves and the span of each finger, in the length of his legs and the shape of his ears. </p>
<p>It was like Harry was seeing his father for the first time, and just taking every similarity in fills something raw and hollow and lacking in the marrow of his bones.</p>
<p>Harry missed his father immensely.</p>
<p>"James, Harry just woke up. Some courtesy, please." Harry shrinks into himself at his mother's tone; he's been a recipient of her unamused disappointment far too many times and endeavours to keep that number the same. <em>Today </em>at least. </p>
<p>James shrugs, easy-going as ever, and crosses the room to kneel in front of Harry. But when they're this close Harry can see <em>more </em>, can see the stiff line of his father's shoulders, the clench to his jaw, the soft concern in his gaze. The easy-going attitude fades, is barely there if at all. </p>
<p>The skin between James' eyes pinch and his glasses fall down his nose a bit. His brown eyes fill with storm clouds, rolling in and distant but dominating, a dark grey filling crystal blue sky.</p>
<p>He's too still now, too pensive, too <em>worried </em>. "How are you feeling?" James asks quiet and close, like he's ready to apparate Harry to St. Mungos then and there, regardless of the answer.</p>
<p>Harry's chest feels tight and full at the thought.</p>
<p>"I'm alright." Harry's reply is all bravado and shrugged off worry. He fully intends to downplay his injuries because <em>he </em>isn't what matters, "How is everyone else? Did you two get hurt?" Harry quickly checks over both his parents for signs of pain or healing wounds. "Are Sirius and Remus-"</p>
<p>Worry slips from his father's features and James rolls his eyes. "We're fine, and they're fine too, kid. I bet they'd be even better if you worried about yourself as much as you worry about them. Or hell, even half of what you worry about them."</p>
<p>Harry is only slightly offended.</p>
<p>James gets up, fake groaning and causing a scene, collapsing into a heap beside Lily and Harry on the bed. His shoulder gently taps Harry's, and all three of them laugh when they sink deeper into the mattress.</p>
<p>A moment of peace settles around them; it's soft and almost creamy, it swirls around in his mouth like an aftertaste on the flat of his tongue, it pulls a smile on Harry's lips.</p>
<p>James starts, "But wow- <em>Merlin did that really hurt by the way." </em>He interrupts himself to rub at his shin and sends Lily a playful glare. "It was incredible. Lils, you were there, you saw it. There's no chance you didn't think our Harry was fantastic! Gets all his fighting skills from you, I bet."</p>
<p>Harry catches worry in Lily's gaze and her faltering glance to the side of his face. James must too with how fast he straightens up; he's calmer again now, but it's less anxious. He's confident in a way Lily and Harry can't be, <em>sure </em>for their sake.</p>
<p>"Everything is looking promising; The Order is working in tandem with Aurors, and clean up of Diagon Alley is almost wrapped. Volunteers, the whole nine yards." James reaches up to ruffle Harry's hair but aborts the motion. He rests his hand on Harry's shoulder and gives him a little shake. "We did a lot of good, saved a lot of lives; you should be<em> proud. </em>I know I am."</p>
<p>A shier smile pulls at Harry's lips. It's hard to remember in moments like this that he is technicallyan adult, and should not be chasing after small bits of praise like this <em>as though he's rarely received it before in his</em>-- and he wonders if they forget his age too.</p>
<p>Harry certainly forgets, he forgets all the time, especially when his father says he is proud of Harry. Of <em>Harry</em>. </p>
<p>Harry wants to bask in this feeling forever and never let it go. Nothing could possibly compare-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Green meets red and erupts into a halo of warm light. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> They're in a golden, dome-shaped web rising into the air. Safe from outside forces, and connected in every sense of the word. They are sheltered from the noises of battle and the sights of destruction that accompany it.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> The feeling is comfortable and steadying. The most relaxed Harry has ever felt. It's a slow sink into wet grass on a mild day, it sticks to him and soothes his aches, and pains, and worries, while the wind plays with his hair and flowers grow through the holes in his skin. Roots filling all the missing parts and pieces that were meant to kill Harry and never did- </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harry frowns.</p>
<p>He turns to his mother. "Did they catch him? Did they apprehend Vol-" Lily hisses and casts a silencing charm faster than Harry can blink. </p>
<p><em> "Don't say his name, Harry. </em>You know better."</p>
<p>His eyes widen; he knows better? Knows–– the Taboo, how did he forget? </p>
<p>James reaches around Harry and holds Lily's arm. "I'm sure he didn't mean it, Lily, you said he's only just woken up."</p>
<p>Her green eyes heat like floo fire and strike like a curse on the tip of Harry's tongue-</p>
<p>"We can't afford mistakes. Not now. Not with Harry," she says.</p>
<p><em> 'Not here.'</em> Is left unsaid but fills the room in its silent wake.</p>
<p>Harry feels the charm slip away, he swallows and a dry click echoes through the silence. "She's right, dad. If she hadn't caught me, any protective enchantments around me would have weakened. Potter Cottage would be vulnerable to attacks."</p>
<p>James scratches the back of his head; he is pensive for all of five seconds before he looks Harry dead in the eyes and nods. "I know. That would suck."</p>
<p>He says it so profound, so gravely. </p>
<p>It doesn't take long for Harry and his mother to burst into hysterical laughter.</p>
<p>Harry falls back on the bed and clutches his stomach; his laughs absorb into the down. Lily climbs over him, armed with a pillow and shouts, "Stop joking around you ass! We were trying-" Her laugh breaks through. "We were trying to be serious!"</p>
<p>His father scooches backwards, avoiding Harry's rumpled form as best he can. "You can't be Sirius! He'd never forgive you for stealing his identity, Lily! That's a crime!"</p>
<p>"Oh like you would know anything about crime-"</p>
<p>"I am an Auror-"</p>
<p>"And I am your WIFE, treat me better than this!"</p>
<p>Their argument has the scattered sound of pillows hitting the bed <em>and </em>his father, and at some points, even <em>Harry </em>is caught in the crossfire because-</p>
<p>"Don't just lay there and laugh, Harry! Help me beat some sense into him!"</p>
<p>And as their laughs die down and they're all exhausted on the floor, Harry <em>realises</em>. He realises the ache in his chest that he's had since opening his eyes is not pressing against his sternum any longer. He realises that there is nowhere else he'd rather be, no one else he'd rather be with--</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Green meets red and- </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And to keep it this way, he needs to <em>focus </em>.</p>
<p>"So did they?" He asks.</p>
<p>Lily's breaths are short and greedy, but she turns her head and raises her brow confused. James asks, "So did they what, Harry?"</p>
<p>"Catch Him."</p>
<p>Harry almost regrets the way his words ruin the lighthearted air. Almost.</p>
<p>"They didn't." His father sighs the words, resigned. There is no shock or disappointment, just the knowledge of another battle to fight on the horizon. </p>
<p>It weighs.</p>
<p>For a moment his chest<em> thump thump thumps </em>a little too hard. Harry's hand presses down on the feeling. Whether it's to make sure that fluttering sensation is genuinely there or to stop it entirely, he's not sure. But it's gone as fast as it comes, he shakes it off.</p>
<p>Harry makes a mental checklist; he can't allow another day's rest. He has spells to practice, research to do, <em>a bag to</em>-- an invitation to consider. The Order needs him now more than ever; the whole of magical England needs him.</p>
<p>James gets up, and the effortless confidence he carries is nowhere to be found. He's tired. It's written all over the plains of his face. He glances down, catches Harry's stare and winks. "I'll check on dinner while the two of you right the room. I'm sure you've got quite the appetite by now, Harry."</p>
<p>Harry doesn't, <em>but that's something he's used to</em>-- but he doesn't want to argue that with his mother present. She'll worry and fuss too much after everything. </p>
<p>James leaves the room as Harry and Lily start getting up. They fix the pillows and sheets, and right the bed back against the wall. It's a contemplative silence between them, not heavy, but full— each with their own thoughts and worries and plans working their heads a mile a minute.</p>
<p>As they leave, Harry observes Lily's back. The way she walks, her head held high, and her fluid movements. Harry doesn't see many similarities between them from this angle, not like with his father. </p>
<p>No, Harry's all in her cheekbones and nose and the freckles scattered across her skin. Harry's in the careful placement of her features and the fullness of her lips. He's in her eyes, of course, but he wonders if anyone has noticed that they both have the same birthmark just under their ear.</p>
<p>He reaches for her wrist, a slight press on her skin before he backs away. She glances at him with a questioning smile, and it's strained more with worry than exhaustion. Though a hint of that is bleeding through in the faint grey hue under her eyes.</p>
<p>Harry gives her his best confident smile, summoning his father's courage and maybe a bit of his own. </p>
<p>"It'll be okay, mum."</p>
<p>Her eyes widen, and she smiles, radiant and pleased. Her hand slips up to palm the side of Harry's face, her thumb strokes soothing caresses on his cheek. "Of course it will be. You, my darling son, are the bravest person I know."</p>
<p>Harry's smile turns soft,<em> too warm, too heavy with</em>-- soft with her attentions.</p>
<p>Lily continues, "Prophesied or not; He will fall. As your crazy father always says, '<em>the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.</em>' And you've got a million-gajillion years before <em>I </em>let that happen."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Wherever You Are</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Birds singing in the sycamore tree.</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always huge thanks to Crew for keeping me alive.</p><p>Also how do you format chapters?? Like what?? Wild</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry wakes the next afternoon considerably less stressed and confused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes catch a gentle breeze waving through cream curtains and the bright flash of birds flying by. Pale strips of mid-day light cascade across his room flickering in and out, no doubt in part to the trees and their swaying branches and curling leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry raises and stretches out the ache in his back and starts to busy himself with his daily routine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter Cottage is beautiful and charming, decorated with warm blues and earthy browns. It's a modest brick house, cosy and tucked away in a rural town denser with sycamores than people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother insisted on buying it shortly after his parents got married. She couldn't stand how ostentatious the Potter Family Manor was and prefered the quiet setting and new memories this out of the way house provided. Or at least, that's what she says. His father swears it was more to do with the appeal of not having old pureblood memorabilia shoved in her face around every corner of her house— a perfectly understandable reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>'Not that I mind</span>
  </em>
  <span>,</span>
  <em>
    <span>'</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry thinks as he runs his hand along charmed wallpaper sprouting delicate flower buds; in fact, he's most definitely grateful for her choice in their magically expanded cottage. He couldn't imagine growing up anywhere other than here, where the rooms are filled more with his mother's cosy fireside book talks, or with his father's favourite past Transfiguration failures, than with ancestral portraits or Potter Family Heirlooms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter Cottage is-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Harry pauses and frowns, picking at small nicks in the wooden door frame to the kitchen, his eyes linger on centimetres and dates.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Home</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Though the word sits uneasily in the back of Harry's mind, while visions of childhood memories collect and hinder, brushing all his concerns away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Harry?" Suddenly all the sound rushes back into clarity and Harry's head jerks to meet eyes with--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's hyper-focused, all attention on her. All on Hermione's concerned gaze and her tilted head, on her arms stretched out slightly, her fingers curled in loose fists, as though she was about to reach for a hug and suddenly thought better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry can't breathe, but that can't be right because he's breathing too hard. He can't think, though his thoughts are definitely a maelstrom. He can't move, and yet he finds himself barely a step away from her, feeling </span>
  <em>
    <span>confused and unsurprised and gutted and content--</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It all fades away, a sigh and a background hum like summer evenings, as she wraps her arms around him and presses her chin into his shoulder. Harry jumps at another pair of arms enveloping around the both of them, a face nuzzling the top of Harry's head, but immediately relaxes and melts at the sight of ginger hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We were so </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> worried about you," Hermione mumbles the words like a secret, and Ron vigorously nods along. "Are you alright? You were asleep for so long; we weren't sure when you'd wake up, and then you woke so late today."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry swallows past an odd lump. He could have sworn they'd all just met a few days ago, so why does it suddenly feel like it's been a lifetime? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm alright," Harry forces the words out, clearing his throat. "Nothing to worry about."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You promise?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, I'm-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good!" Hermione breaks away, startling Ron enough for him to raise his hands in surrender. Her eyes aren't warm hot chocolate during snowy nights in Hogwarts any longer; they are abruptly molten caramel, solidifying and burning from too long on the scorching heat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She jabs her finger at his sternum; her nail repeatedly digs in with each motion and punctuates her words, "What were you thinking?! What sort of foolish plan was that?! You could have died, Harry! Your parents are capable enough to handle things themself, you didn't need to go play hero! Going up against </span>
  <em>
    <span>Him</span>
  </em>
  <span> is absolute madness! We should have you committed-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry's panicking eyes seek Ron's but his friend is too busy staring wide-eyed at Hermione as though she suddenly grew two extra heads. And when Harry catches a muffled laugh, his attention jumps to the kitchen table where his parents have laid out lunch and tucked in to enjoy the show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It rattles at Harry then that this was probably why he didn't get chewed out by his mother and father the night before. Hermione must have called dibs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hermione," Ron starts to interrupt, "maybe let him get a few bites in before you start the lectures? Harry needs the energy." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry barely catches Ron's murmured '</span>
  <em>
    <span>And me too</span>
  </em>
  <span>.' Though, James must hear it loud and clear with how full his amused and startled snort was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione inhales and exhales through her mouth, her shoulders slack at the release, "I suppose we </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> all enjoy the meal Mrs Potter made."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron perks up, "Yeah! It'd be a shame to let it get cold or go to waste." His arm slings across Harry's shoulder, and he leads them to two chairs beside each other. Harry sends a grateful glance Ron's way, but he shrugs and looks sheepish and guilty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry Harry, I'm with her on this one. You were kind of a big ol' idiot that day. I'm just glad you made it out alright."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Okay everyone!" His mother claps, bringing all attention to her. She smiles, "Enough chitchat, warming charms never taste as good, and Harry needs to take a potion after his meal." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry makes to interrupt, but Lily cuts him off, "Uh-uh. Healer's orders." Hermione shifts out of the corner of his eye; Harry swears she somehow looks more grave than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Really, Harry?</span>
  </em>
  <span> You're getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>medical treatment?</span>
  </em>
  <span> I can't believe you did-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's too late now, Hermione." Harry's father gestures at Ron and back to her. "You both know my son better than anyone. What's happened has happened; all we can do is hope Harry at least gives a warning next time-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There will be no next time-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>There will be no next time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, yes. Exactly what I said, darling."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soft laughter eases the remaining tension as they all dig into there meals. The silence is comfortable while they eat, but as they get closer to finishing up, a strained hesitation falls over Harry's parents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They're talking with their eyes, Lily holds strong and stern, and his father looks like he's just swallowed half a lemon. She points with her chin and raises her brows, and suddenly his father is sighing, his gaze jumping to Harry's and dancing across Ron and Hermione.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father clears his throat, "No pressure, of course, but there will be an Order meeting this evening." Hermione puts her fork down and straightens up, Ron is over his plate with pot-pie halfway to his open mouth, and Harry feels something solidifying within him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not the weighty presence that has followed him since waking up yesterday. This is sturdy and levelling, not quite comforting, but it's there, and it fills, and it makes sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to do this, </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And now that you're all of age with good heads on your shoulders, you're invited to attend. No need to join right away, but you're welcome to sit in." James finishes and Harry can feel the stress coming off him in waves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wonders if his parents were really on the same page when they agreed to let him join The Order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lily places her hand on Hermione's shoulder, "We know you probably haven't explained much of what's happening in the Wizarding World to your parents. If you need any help </span>
  <em>
    <span>interpreting</span>
  </em>
  <span> things about the war or whatever else, I'm more than willing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione's smile is bright and relieved, and she nods in thanks. Lily glances at Ron, "And I'm sure Molly will have a rather large word with you later."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron pales a bit but looks determined, and Harry's sure it'll be a fight to let him go, but doesn't doubt he'll see Ron there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trio stays at the table even after lunch finishes and Harry's parents wander off to busy themselves with other work. They talk for a while about little things Harry has missed the past few days, and about the concerns broadcasted over the wireless and printed in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prophet;</span>
  </em>
  <span> though altogether it isn't very much or very different from what his parents said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truly, Harry can't bring himself to retain any of it anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It all slips out of his mind and behind Hermione's sporadic scolding and Ron's grand storytelling and laughter. Harry feels the conversation fade and buzz in and out of his ears through most of it, and yet that doesn't really bother him for some reason. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is just happy to have Hermione and Ron around. Harry drinks in their faces like a man stranded and listens to their voices like they are</span>
  <em>
    <span> the only real sound he's heard since</span>
  </em>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright you two!" Lily appears in the doorway and interrupts. "Harry needs to take his potion, and it'll make him pretty drowsy afterwards. I'm sure he'll be seeing the both of you tonight though, and if not then, there's always tomorrow."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their goodbyes are short but anxious; there's still far too much concern in Hermione's eyes when they leave, and Ron looks like he doesn't want to leave at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes Harry feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>uneas</span>
  </em>
  <span>-- grateful to have such amazing and caring friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother shoos them out the door and through the floo with smiles and a laugh. She returns to Harry's side and carefully accios a fragile glass bottle with a delicate and sharp geometric design. It's no bigger than her hand and stoppered with a cork.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The potion glistens a shimmering iridescent dark purple and irregularly glows with spotty golden bubbles of light. The bubbles bunch on the surface and expand and expand and </span>
  <em>
    <span>expand</span>
  </em>
  <span> until they release sparkling pink gas that fades in seconds, though the potions consistency seems more like porridge than water. Thick and gooey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That looks awful," Harry says and winces at the thought of forcing it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother's face scrunches up, "I asked if there was anything else they could give you that didn't look so...</span>
  <em>
    <span>gross</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to say the least. But this was what they recommended."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sighs and reaches for the bottle, immediately surprised by its lightweight and, "Is that? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lavender?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles, "The Healers did say that it's one positive trait is the calming scent of lavender, but they assured me it wouldn't taste like you're swallowing a garden."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry laughs off an oddly vivid image of someone swallowing an entire lavender bundle. "Well, that's a relief, I guess. You said it'd make me drowsy?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, they actually suggest you take it in bed. Its effect can vary per person, but it might knock you out like a light for an hour or two." Lily smooths back his hair and plays with the tip of his ear, tugging it gently. "Up and at 'em, the sooner you take it, the sooner you'll feel better."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry rolls his eyes and moves his head away from her attentions, "Yes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mother</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Whatever you say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mother</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Anything for you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mother</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She zaps him with a small hex; it doesn't hurt even a little bit, but Harry jumps in surprise. "I'm still healing!! This is abu-"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Neat little identical houses come to mind. One, two, three, </span>
  </em>
  <span>four--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Honey?" Harry's eyes snap open, and suddenly he's sitting on his bed, his mother's concerned gaze searching his. "There you are...I lost you for a second. Are you alright?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry feels anxiety itching under his skin and expanding through his chest, he can't summon the words to lie, but he can nod his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay, let's get you all tucked in for a little rest."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry's confused at first, then notices his hands are potion free. The bottle now sits empty on his bedside table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't remember taking it but tastes a sticky slick film on the back of his tongue. It makes him sick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How-" He stumbles over his words, his mouth moves slower than he wants it to, it feels numb. "How long do I- do I need to take that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lily smiles bright and so very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> wide, "Until you're better. Of course."</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The fireplace pops and fizzes and burns.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Its dull sound is soothing over the strokes of quill on parchment and steady breathing. The smell of old texts is heady and familiar, peaceful and welcomed, and yet annoyance swells in the back of his mind.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Without thought the current time appears in midair, it's glowing numbers read:</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>01:34.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He glances back down at the parchment, and for a moment the nonsensical squiggles waver before coming to life and forming a language he does not understand but knows. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pale hands smooth over a page in a worn book, his attention turns towards the source material and steals his chance to make sense of the handwriting. The book elaborates upon the Imperius and its use throughout history in--</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Three Knocks echo through the room.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He pauses. A lingering sense of expectation sits with him, and the deliberate wait is awful and uncomfortable, before his voice finally hisses out, high and impatient. "Enter." It's immediately unrecognisable, but his tongue wraps around the notes as though he has spoken this way all his life.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A flash of pale blonde hair turns hazy pink in the light as it carefully rests over a robe-clad shoulder. The person's face hides behind a gleaming silver mask reflecting angry scarlet fire, and it's swirling snake-like patterns seemingly come to life in each flicker of flame. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They're imposing but reverent in their well-practised and graceful kneel as they reach the front of his desk.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"My Lord," They start, speaking to the wooden floor, "Excuse my interruption and the late hour, but It has been administered."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"The condition?" He demands, his patience wanes, but his attention is entirely on them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Stable, unresponsive." He returns to his careful notes, but he doesn't process what he's writing. His mind still taking in every detail of the conversation. "My wife assures me this will not change."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The annoyance that lingers dissipates at last, "Very well. You may leave."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They hesitate for a moment, but it is a moment too long, "What else do you have to report?" He continues, and his anger prickles below the surface when barely another second goes by with no response. "What. Else."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They, at last, look up. Hollow eyes stare straight at him, and though a charm of some kind conceals their colour, he can almost picture a cool shade— something bright and light that reminds him of hallway spats and winter mornings.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"My Lord, I'm concerned keeping such a...delicate possession here in the manor may soon become difficult.-" </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His anger builds. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"The wards have deflected four attempted breaches the past two days alone.-" </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And builds. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"It may be in our best interest to relocate the-"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He raises from his desk chair, and the kneeling person lifts to the air and slams against a glass cabinet with a painful smash— shards falling and piercing all around them and the room from the impact.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He blinks, and suddenly he's face to face with them, his hand grips their neck, cutting off their breathing. He hisses through clenched teeth, "It stays by my side. ALWAYS. It never leaves my reach! Do you understand?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The painful gasps for air and the feeling of fingernails digging into his hand's skin does not allow the small nod to slip through his attention. The anger has reached unimaginable peaks, but he forces himself to slacken his grip. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Leave me." They inhale greedily and trip over their robes on the way out the door.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When the door shuts, his eyes land on scattered broken shards, and with a wave of his hand, they piece together one by one. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He watches as the cabinet reconstructs and as each fragment fits together. His gaze follows various hairline splinters as they meld back into perfect smooth casing. It calms the uncontrollable rage always so close to the surface. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His hand presses against the repaired display, and residual magic leaves it warm to the touch. His attention turns to a simple pale wand, charmed to float carefully above the shelf. For a moment, he thinks it looks familiar.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then his eyes meet his reflection in the glass, and they remind him of--</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Another </span>
  </em>
  <span>red</span>
  <em>
    <span> altogether. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry screams awake.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Find me on Tumblr (I live here): <a href="https://tomarryherewewhoaagain.tumblr.com/">@TomarryHereWeWhoaAgain</a><br/>Or on Discord: <a href="https://discord.gg/2suak9y">The Room of Requirement</a><br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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